#BJORK MUSITION MOVIE#

I fought quite hard for Selma in the lyrics: The time it takes a tear to fall, a rose to grow a thorn, is the time it will take for you to forgive me. I think you can be dressed in a pink feather boa and still be speaking the truth. You can be working class, you can never have read a book in your whole life. 'For Lars, being poetic means being intellectual.

'I felt Selma was a very poetic creature,' she says. And her face-pale, with its exaggerated upswept lashes and wide, almond eyes, resembling a Western girl drawn by the anime master Hayao Miyazaki for one of his epic Japanese cartoons-loses its luminous bloom. She is thinking of the experience, and her warm, caramel eyes go cold. The songs for the film, which BjГ¶rk wrote, were another battleground between her and von Trier. In the film, she plays Selma, a factory worker somewhere in America who, in times of trouble, gathers the factory noises together in her head and makes them into music, and suddenly she is transported, the star of an elaborate industrial production number, a rust-belt Ginger Rogers. Along the way, Catherine Deneuve, who is also in the film, turned to her and said, 'Don't you love to pretend to be someone else?' And Bjork answered, 'No, I don't.' Von Trier, famous for forcing his actors not to act so much as 'feel,' met his match in Bjork, who does nothing but feel anyway, and so the director's treatment began to seem gratuitous, like something that is prohibited under the Geneva Convention. It seems that Bjork and the director, Lars von Trier, did not get along.

#BJORK MUSITION MOVIE#

She's talking about the movie she has made, Dancer in the Dark, a film that won the Palme d'Or at Cannes and for which Bjork was awarded Best Actress, and she's saying that acting, an experience of 'profound cruelty,' is something that she'll never do again. But here it is, on display, true emotion in an unlikely place, and it's exciting to see that with all the other shades on her palette, Bjork is also capable of shyness.ДЇrom her music, you do know she's capable of enormous waves of feeling she's as distinctive a pop star as exists in today's fairly vanilla music culture, and she brings the open soul of an old-fashioned chanteuse to her songs-the dizzying give of Billie Holiday caught in an emotional undertow-as well as a defiant bark.ДЄnd when she speaks, softly rolling her r's in her Icelandic accent, it's very nearly as if she's singing. And when she proffers a hand, and it is kissed-a sight probably not glimpsed in Manhattan since Edith Wharton packed away her quills and india ink-a streak of crimson passes under her eyes. This is the East Village, the final resting place of middle-class anarchism, and people don't typically curtsey here. Bjork Gudmundsdottir curtseys when she introduces herself.

Bjork musition